


A Letter of Introduction

by Josey (cestus), junko



Series: Shattered Souls [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Action/Adventure, Multi, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urahara Kisuke gets a new guest in the form of one Abarai Renji, only things aren’t exactly as straight-forward as they seem….</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Letter of Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is a canon divergence that takes place after the Aizen’s betrayal and before the Bount Arc.

Nigh on a century and now they had the gall to contact him. After everything they'd done, after everything they'd put Yoruichi through. After Kisuke had tried to explain to them that Aizen was the bad guy here and not a single one of them had looked up far enough from their petty concerns to lift a finger. Now they sent this.

He took the proffered missive between thumb and forefinger, slid a nail beneath the seal and unfolded it to reveal a single sheet of plain paper penned, unless he was very much mistaken, by Ukitake Jyūshiro. A simple letter of introduction. Formal in its wording and respectful in tone, it requested that the newly appointed resident shinigami for Karakura Town (no name or rank given) be offered hospitality at Urahara Shōten, all reasonable and sundry expenses to be met by Soul Society on presentation of the correct bills and receipts.

After everything, they offered him this. 

Lesser men would have thrown it back in their faces. Lesser men would have scaled the highest peak and howled with the waking sun, 'I told you so!' Thankfully, for all his faults, Urahara Kisuke was not a lesser man. 

Still, he stared at the letter as though it may rear up and bite him at any second. Because the errand boy was not at all what he seemed. Abarai Renji, currently gracing his front porch in all his tattooed, crimson haired glory, was fukutaichō to the sixth division under Kuchiki Byakuya no less. Prestigious. Except he was also the one rumoured to have come close to dismissal for butting heads with his captain to an almost fatal extent. Not that Kisuke could blame him. Bya-kun always had tended to bring that out in people and such a basic constant of life could never have changed, no matter how much the boy had become a man.

But even ignoring that and looking at the larger picture, Kisuke didn't know whether to be insulted or honoured by the choice. It was acknowledgement of a sort. And yet it wasn't. Currently he was erring towards confused. And Kisuke loathed being confused. He was the one who played mind games, people did not play them with him, not if they knew what was good for them. 

He'd been running this store for over seven decades. Since a goodly proportion of his supplies came from Soul Society and the majority of his clients were shinigami stationed in the real world, it stood to reason that Soul Society had to know of it. Knowing of it, they had to know of him. And yet they had done nothing. Until now. And now they had sent him a letter, bland to the point of anonymity, and delivered by the most junior of the senior officers, one who had only just avoided disgrace. And the very same who'd helped start this whole mess, along with his stiff-necked captain, by trying to get Rukia killed rather than helping hide her in the real world like they were supposed to have done. 

There was a reason Kisuke had chosen Kuchiki Rukia as the hougyoku's hiding place for goodness sake and it was not entirely opportunism. Of all the possibilities Kisuke had considered, she should have been the most protected. With the strength of her family and friends behind her, she should have been well beyond Aizen's long and influential reach. Kuchiki's failure to perform such a simple task had brought all Kisuke's plans down around their ears. Aizen was now established in Hueco Mundo, in possession of the hougyoku, and well on his way to being unassailable. 

And Soul Society was playing games.

Fine, then Kisuke would offer a reciprocal move. An eye for an eye, as it were. Or, in this case, a shinigami for a shinigami. It wouldn’t be easy; Abarai’s weekly reports would be looked over extremely carefully, but it would gain them nothing. Kisuke’s mind was made up. 

With a flutter of his fan, he lifted his head to cast the perfect depth of shadow across his eyes and purred, "Abarai-fukutaichō, it seems as though you'll be staying with us for a while. Please be assured that maximum effort will be made to accommodate you." Opening salvo played. Kisuke allowed a smirk to curl his lips. If he couldn't pull Kuchiki's tail directly, he'd have to make do with the one on his monkey. 

 

#

Renji frowned. Something about the way this guy said ‘maximum effort’ made him doubt his sincerity. But then there was that smile and the beckoning to follow him into the backrooms of the shōten. So hard to read.

Worse than Kuchiki-taicho, Zabimaru grumbled.

Layers, the other voice hissed.

Layers? What the hell had made Zabimaru say that of all things. Though he thought he might understand a bit of what his zanpakutō might be talking about. As he followed Urahara, Renji tried to assess the other man’s strengths. It was surprisingly difficult. With the hat and the clogs, they stood about the same height. Urahara wore a loose-fitting garment that looked a little like a karate gi and a dark haori-type jacket that completely obscured any sense of what kind of body he had hidden under that. He seemed kind of skinny, maybe even bordering on scrawny, but it bugged Renji that he couldn’t be sure.

Be wary, Zabimaru hissed.

“Yeah, no shit,” Renji muttered, remembering that Ikkaku had been really freaked out when he’d heard of Renji’s assignment. If this was someone Madarame Ikkaku was afraid of, then Renji would be extra cautious.

The shopkeeper glanced over his shoulder. Renji just nodded to him, like Urahara should expect the occasional odd outburst. “Just talking to myself,” Renji explained. Urahara gave him a dubious look, but continued on their way.

Man, how big was this place, anyway? 

Renji’s mind continued to catagorize and consider, as he watched the liquid way Urahara moved. Yeah, definitely dangerous. Probably has a lot of hakuda. 

Good, Zabimaru purred. We have distance.

Not going to help much with all that kidō energy, though, Renji replied with a shake of his head. We’re going to have to-- He stopped himself. What was he doing, already strategizing like this guy was the enemy? That wasn’t the mission. 

Although... the mission, what the hell? It couldn’t be more vague. Byakuya had waved his hand dismissively and said that Kurosaki Ichigo needed looking after and that Ukitake-taicho would explain the rest. Only Ukitake hadn’t said much except to hand him the letter of introduction and had all but patted him on the head and told him not to get in trouble with human girls. And bring back tea.

Tea.

He was on a fucking scouting mission for tea.

Because it was a humongous load of bullshit that Ichigo needed looking after. 

They’d come to another set of never-ending sliding screen doors. Only at this one Urahara doffed his hat and made a dramatic sweeping bow to indicate that they’d reached their destination. About fucking time. They must have walked half a kilometer. 

Renji walked through only to be confronted with a naked, lifeless body of... himself. The corpse–like thing was laid out on a futon mattress, its limbs straight and stiff like a board. It was weird to see a nearly perfect copy of himself like this, looking very empty; a dead man with his face. 

“Are you... dissatisfied, Abarai-fukutaichō?” The shopkeeper asked from behind his fan. He lurked in the doorway, as though he had some kind of compulsion to find the shadiest part of the room and slink into the shadows. He was certainly a weirdo. Renji still wasn’t sure to make of this fluttering, secretive man with massive, captain-level reiatsu. 

“A bit,” Renji admitted. He pointed to his forehead, “You forgot a few of the tattoos.”

Intelligent eyes seemed to gleam out from under Urahara’s hat. “Honestly, that’s not so much of an oversight as an augmentation designed for proper espionage. You are attempting to pass as a high school student, are you not? Not a lot of kids these days have tattoos on their faces. Unless you’re going for the recently released felon look? Honestly, I thought it a bit risqué to leave the ones on the neck.”

Renji crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t care. They’re important.”

“I am being clear, aren’t I, lieutenant? You’re going to scare the children.”

“Yeah, but that’s not me. If you make me get into that, I’ll just find the nearest tattoo parlour and get it done.”

“I see,” Urahara said. Then, he dropped the fan and gave Renji a wide, close-eyed smile. He waggled his fingers in a good-bye, and his voice was sing-song as he said: “Well, don’t forget to get a receipt!”

As the shopkeeper left, Renji shouted out, “Oi! And you made my privates too small!”

“Only in your dreams, Abarai-kun!”

 

#

After a fruitless trip to a tattoo parlor, where he discovered the outrageous prices of body work in the human world, Renji left the frustratingly undecorated gigai in his room and went out on patrol for the night.

He was currently crouched on top of a streetlamp, watching as the sun began to rise over the rooftops of the houses of Karakura Town and listening to Zabimaru complain. Not only is it not right, it’s too small, the zanpakutō grumbled.

“If he’s stubborn about the tats, Urahara sure as shit ain’t going to change the size of my--”

Zabimaru hissed from where it rested, unsheathed, across his shoulders. That’s not what we mean.

It doesn’t fit us, the deeper voice said. We need to stretch.

He nodded, not sure what he could do about that. It was crowded in the gigai. They were what amounted to essentially three souls jammed together in a tiny doll. 

Renji sighed. As the light slowly brightened from grey to gold, he wondered, for the thousandth time what the hell he was doing here. 

Sure, this town was rotten with Hollow activity, but every time he arrived on scene, Ichigo or one of his crazy super-powered friends was already engaged in battle with it. Also, Renji knew the score. Hollows were attracted to spiritual energy. Ichigo was like a damn lighthouse to them. His friends weren’t much different.

So why add the energy of a fukutaichō-level soul to all that?

Taicho, Zabimaru hissed. You and I are closer to captain-level with bankai.

Right, Renji amended silently. Kind of my point, though, isn’t it? They’ve got enough eyes on them from the other side. Why add me?

Renji felt something akin to a shrug from his zanpakutō.

Maybe this ‘tea’ mission was a total ruse. It stunk of something, that much was for sure. Maybe Byakuya was just trying to keep him out from underfoot. Was he still in disgrace after so publicly siding with Rukia and Ichigo? He’d thought he’d worked things out with his captain, but Byakuya was a tough one to figure. The captain said words that made it seem like they had an uneasy truce, but who knew what that guy was really thinking under that mask of silence and indifference? The only real emotion he’d ever heard was while he was lying in a bloody heap at Byakuya’s feet, and then it had been only disdain. Monkeys and the moon. All that crap about class and not even being close to reaching him, but, instead, drowning while grasping at the reflection of his power. 

What bull. 

It would have been a more impressive lecture if Renji hadn’t spent so much of the battle being held down and immobilized by Byakuya’s high level kidō, not even allowed to really fight, man to man.

Heh, Renji thought. Got him to one knee, though.

Yes, the snake tail hissed, rattling happily at the memory of Byakuya trapped in its jaws. And we survived, Zabimaru’s other voice agreed. Survived Senbonzakura’s bankai. No easy task.

Bankai. Why did Renji suspect that was part of why he was banished here in the human world, far away from the Soul Society? Was it because Byakuya didn’t know what to do with a lieutenant that had bankai? Though still raw and untrained, the truth was Renji now had access to a power that was supposed to belong to only a select few. Was Byakuya keeping Renji away from the Gotei in order to... what? Keep it a secret? Keep him from advancing?

Or was he really just here to find some stupid tea for Ukitake?

Seemed unlikely, but the truth was a tangle.

He stood up, balancing on one foot, and slipped Zabimaru into place at his hip, then leapt to the nearest rooftop and began his bounding trek back to Urahara’s. He only had a couple of hours to get ready for his first day of high school. As he jumped easily from roof to roof, Renji frowned, his mind still churning. 

Something weird was going on with this assignment, of that much he was a hundred percent certain. Byakuya had issued the orders, but Ukitake was pulling some strings. After all, it was Ukitake-taicho that had given him instructions and his ‘letter of introduction.’ 

Renji hadn’t thought much of it, at first. After all, it was Ukitake’s Division that had the most contacts in the human world. He had been the captain to assign Rukia here, so it seemed natural that he’d be part of Renji’s deployment. But, even though Renji hadn’t been around to see it, he’d heard about Ukitake’s surprise at Sōkyoku Hill and how he and Captain Kyōraku had been ready to contain the power of the execution with some magic that had belonged to the Shihōin Clan. 

Those two captains always seem so non-threatening, so innocuous. 

Clearly, a cover, because if Renji thought about it even a little, it seemed damned obvious those two guys knew a whole lot more about what was really going on than anyone else―even the head captain.

Between them and Urahara with all his layers, Renji had a very bad feeling he was deep in something that was way, way over his head.

#

Like, for instance, Karakura High School.

Renji had faced much more formidable enemies on the battlefield, but he found himself completely terrified by the rows of faces staring back at him as he stood in front of the class and tried to explain his name. It didn’t help that Ichigo keep shaking his head at him and mouthing, ‘Dork!’ 

Finally, Renji was allowed to take a seat in the back that seemed to be permanently assigned to transfer students. 

The rest of the morning passed in a kind of blur of pop quizzes and a barrage of questions Renji had no hope of understanding. Math was the only class Renji instantly grasped, and his prowess at that made Ichigo corner him at lunch break.

“Who knew you were an idiot savant when it came to numbers?”

“Shut up, Kurosaki,” Renji said. “Division was a critical skill in Inuzuri. Plus the rules haven’t changed much.”

Ichigo nodded, though Renji could tell he had no idea. Ichigo gave him a smile and patted him on the back, “Let’s put those skills to use. Come on, we’ll divvy up some juice boxes.”

 

#

"Five, six, seven... ten, eleven, twelve..." The fabricator pinged. Kisuke wrenched the dial hard to the left and snapped the top back on the tube, releasing a spill of foul gas into the air. He took a step away, waving his fan at it. Concentrated bount reishi, whether natural or manufactured, was not something to be inhaled lightly. From his research he knew there was good reason human legend attributed to them powers of mind control and seduction. Hmm, if there was any possibility of Ichigo encountering them whilst still in his body, Kisuke should probably work on an agent to counteract that as well. He did not fancy trying to explain to Isshin why his precious first born had blown away on the wind.

The mod soul in the test tube glistened wetly. This was the final one he'd decided to imbue with the bount sensor ability. Originally he'd only been planning on using two but with the added requirement to train Ichigo and his friends, now including Abarai, three was a more efficient number. He was pleased with the result. Once they were placed in gigai, their conditioning could be completed, at which point he could start on phase two.

He pondered that as he tidied the bench, ensuring every scrap of evidence was gone before Yoruichi returned. There was no need for her to be involved in this if she didn't need to be. The Bount were probably just passing through and so long as they kept their predations to a minimum, Kisuke saw no reason to interfere. Beyond capturing one of course, which was the entire idea behind the sensors in the first place. 

Which reminded him, he must ensure the holding facility downstairs was sound-proofed.

More toys? Benihime questioned sarcastically. Her tolerance for Kisuke’s research was always inversely proportionate to the amount of intrigue involved. The Bount were old news to her and thus no longer interesting.

Hardly a toy, Kisuke argued. They may be a dying breed but they still have much to offer in the way of data. If nothing else, their ability to absorb human souls like a hollow is fascinating.

Hm. She sounded vastly unimpressed. Kisuke ignored her. They’d come to an accommodation on the subject many years ago.

"Tencho? We're ready." Tessai's rumble followed a scratch on the door to the laboratory. 

Kisuke dropped the newly finished mod soul into a pouch with the other two and slipped them into his pocket before answering the summons. One did not take family meetings lightly around here, if one knew what was good for one.

Tessai and the kids were already sat around the table, tea and snacks distributed between them. Kisuke took his seat, placed his fan carefully on the table in front of him and folded his hands. Then he gave the gathering his most serious look from under his hat. "Welcome to the very first strategising session of the Urahara Shōten Shock Troops," he said. "We are declaring war." That was perhaps something of an exaggeration but Kisuke had learned long ago that if he wanted the kids onside he had to play up the drama.

"Well, that name sucks," Jinta snorted. "And who're we declaring war on anyhow? Ain't nobody around here worth fighting."

Ah, the naiveté of youth, Kisuke thought, just as Ururu lisped hesitantly, "You shouldn't say things like that to Kisuke-san, Jinta-kun, it's very rude."

Kisuke could feel Tessai shaking slightly beside him. They'd discussed this briefly earlier and Kisuke knew that his long-time friend found the idea immensely amusing. He'd also had a few things to say about Kuchiki and Abarai, and their potential which Kisuke was still mulling over. Not that he was going to let anything as ephemeral as sympathy sway him from his path. In Kisuke's experience revenge was a dish best served as many times as possible, preferably until your victim begged for mercy.

Jinta opened his mouth to speak again and promptly had it shut for him by a thump to the head from Tessai. 

"This is a special type of war," Kisuke continued. "For one thing, it's top secret, so no blabbing. And the enemy, Jinta-kun, is our very own house guest, no lesser personage than Abarai-fukutaichō”

"Why we picking on him?" Jinta asked and honestly the boy was going to end up with brain damage if Tessai wasn't careful. There was a limit to what his current gigai could protect him from.

"Because," Kisuke said as though bodily harm had not just been enacted across from him, "we need to prepare him for training with Kurosaki-kun." As he'd hoped, both the kids' eyes lit up at the mention of training and Ichigo in the same sentence. 

"Can I hit him this time?" Jinta practically exploded out of his seat, hand waving in the air. "Ururu did it last time and she hits like a girl!"

Only if the girl in question were a mod soul specifically designed for the dual purposes of bodyguard and executioner, Kisuke thought. Ururu herself, of course, would never be so forward, he'd trained her better, though her cheeks were definitely pinker than usual.

Kisuke shook his head sadly. "Not yet no. The first stage of this war will be purely psychological."

"Si-what?"

"Psychological warfare. Mind games," Ururu whispered. "A way of creating or reinforcing behaviours and attitudes favourable to friendly powers. It is considered extremely effective in breaking down enemy morale as a prelude to invasion."

"Absolutely," Kisuke agreed happily as she repeated his lessons back at him. "However it can also be an end in and of itself. And that's the plan this time."

"Why?"

"Because we need to break Abarai-fukutaichō before we fix him the way we want him. And we're going to do it like this." 

 

By the time the meeting broke up, each of them was intimately familiar with their role. Kisuke himself was confined to the peanut gallery. His main task was to appear at least partially sympathetic in the face of Tessai's forceful demands and the kid's guileless name-calling. Thus, Kisuke hoped, not only would Abarai have his confidence undermined and be forced to turn to Ichigo for companionship and support, he would also come to see Kisuke as a more neutral figure, neatly deflecting suspicion during the upcoming conflict. 

There was an old maxim in the human world that went along the lines of, 'Give me the child until he is seven and I will give you the man'. 

Kisuke felt the saying credited too much to the early years. He wasn't sure exactly how long Kuchiki had had to work on his fukutaichō, but he was certain that it wasn't nearly long enough. By the time Kisuke had finished, Abarai's first loyalty would lie entirely with Ichigo and the human world, and that self-serving mouthpiece of the noble houses, Central 46, could go take a running jump.


End file.
